Believed In Your Confusion
by ournoisyhearts
Summary: Is he okay? That has to be the question of the century. He is so very, very far from okay...and he only has himself to blame. Post 4x06. Hinted Seblaine.


_This isn't home anymore._

The words have been stuck on a loop in his mind for the past five minutes, Blaine remaining rooted to the spot in the middle of the hallway. Something sharp and aching is spreading outwards from his chest, and all he really wants to do right now is keel over and cry, but he can't. He's expected to show up in the choir room and join in the celebration over the success of _Grease, _chatting and laughing with everyone else. All of the other people who were _Kurt's_ friends first, not his.

He doesn't know how much longer he can take this.

The gray sweater that Blaine had earlier managed to admit actually made him look quite decent is now suffocating him, and the whole curling-up-and-sobbing idea truly does sound perfect at this point. Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, he prays that they don't seem too bloodshot and prepares to face his cast mates. A deep breath. _Everything's fine. Kurt was never here._ These are the things he keeps saying to himself, over and over, before he actually manages to turn around and start his way towards the choir room.

Unfortunately, something interferes with that plan.

Blaine falters mid-step and visibly deflates, his eyes sinking to the floor. Sebastian's hands are shoved into his pockets, a casual hoodie enveloping his lanky frame. His hair lacks its usual careful styling, and his eyes are impossibly wide, almost nervous. Blaine is equally torn between spinning around and high-tailing it out of there, and rushing forward to bury his face in Sebastian's awfully comfortable looking sweatshirt. Of course, that might possibly earn him a shove to the ground. Or some type of sexual advance. Or both.

He really can't deal with this right now.

"You sounded pretty good up there, Killer." Sebastian's voice is void of any of his usual sarcasm, and his face maintains its mostly neutral expression. Blaine has no idea what to think about any of this, and the awkward silence that ensues after the other boy's comment is enough to make Blaine wince. A long moment later, he hesitantly lifts his head to find Sebastian watching him. Observing him. The absence of his trademark smirk and heated gaze is almost...eery.

"...thanks," Blaine mumbles finally, his eyes dropping once more. He reaches up and fiddles with the collar of his sweater, tugging it down slightly. When he looks back up, Sebastian's eyes are glued to the exposed hollow of his throat, and the attention causes Blaine to awkwardly clear his throat.

"So, uh, it was nice seeing you, but I should go...find everyone else..." Forcing his lips up into a half-hearted smile, Blaine raises his hand in an attempted wave and moves forward to brush past the other boy. A rough hand around his wrist stops him, and he resists the urge to yank himself away from it, despite the surprisingly light grip.

"Wait, Blaine, I, uh—" Sebastian stops midsentence, his fingers loosening and eventually allowing Blaine's hand to drop back to his side. He tilts his head minutely, gaze somewhat questioning. "I heard about Hummel."

And that's it. Suddenly, Blaine knows exactly why Sebastian is here, his motives uncovered in one statement. The lack of sexual implications, the fake nerves—all just to get into Blaine's pants now that he's "single" again. The anger that arises within him is hot and all-consuming, Blaine's face contorting into a scowl as he pushes up into Sebastian's space, their eyes catching while he shoves a finger up against the other boy's chest.

"Look, I don't know what you were thinking showing up here, but nothing has changed. _Nothing._ I don't want anything to do with you. So just—" Blaine pauses, his breathing huffing out in irritation, "...leave me alone."

The two of them stand like that, frozen, for a solid minute. Sebastian's eyes are hard and indecipherable, his features still crafted into a blank mask. The fight vanishes from Blaine just as abruptly as it had come, and his scowl morphs into a frown as he takes a shaky step backward.

"Easy, killer," Sebastian murmurs, folding his arms over his chest as the shorter boy moves out of his personal space. "I wasn't planning on anything. Scout's honor."

A scoff rumbles out of Blaine's throat, his expression wary. "Right."

"No, I'm serious," Sebastian repeats, dropping his arms back to his sides. "I just heard that you guys were doing _Grease,_ and I wanted to come check it out. No harm done."

"You can understand why I don't believe you, right?" Blaine's eyebrows are raised in disbelief as he contemplates the sight of the boy before him. The same boy who had hit on him while he had a boyfriend—had blackmailed the New Directions—had practically _blinded him._ Yet somehow, despite everything, Blaine isn't even thinking about walking away. Maybe that's what terrifies him the most.

A rueful smile appears on Sebastian's face as he gives a barely-there nod of his head, glancing away towards the wall. "I wasn't expecting anything less," he admits.

That makes Blaine pause. If Sebastian wasn't here to...put the moves on him, or insult him, then...why were they even having this conversation? His confusion must be obvious because Sebastian suddenly lets out a slightly deprecating laugh, his gaze returning to Blaine.

"I just wanted to...make sure you were okay," he says slowly, bright eyes honest and imploring. "That's all."

Blaine visibly blanches at the admission. Is he okay? That has to be the question of the century. He is so very, very _far_ from okay...and he only has himself to blame.

"Do you know what he just said to me?" The words are out before he can stop them, the venom thick on his tongue. "He said that McKinley _isn't home anymore._ What does that even _mean?_ I came here for him. This was _his_ home, not mine, and I still transferred, all for him. If anyone has the right to be complaining...it's _me._" Blaine stops unexpectedly, dragging his eyes up to meet Sebastian's. The reality of the entire situation slams into him as he finishes speaking, and god, it makes so much _sense._ What is even still doing here?

"I don't belong here," he whispers. Without being aware of it, Sebastian has slowly gravitated closer, his neck bent down so that he can glance at Blaine's face. Both of them stay like that, frozen in time once again, the fragile air only breaking when the taller boy's hand hovers upwards for a moment before settling against the side of Blaine's neck.

"Blaine," his voice is soft and honey-sweet, genuine. Nothing like the Sebastian Smythe that Blaine had thought he knew. "Come home."


End file.
